American Horror Story: Asylum
by Dr.Roxas4dawin
Summary: A novelization of American Horror Story: Asylum. Rated M for sexual situations, scenes of rape and torture, intense graphic violence, strong profanity, religious themes, and disturbing scenes.
1. Chapter 1

AHS Asylum

Since there's a trend of full-fledged rewrites of franchise stories as novellas, I hope to present my take on the 'Asylum' season of American Horror Story. I'll be digging into the overall canonicity of the series for each character involved in the season and how they fit into the story (but who am I kidding, most of you already know about that). So without further ado, let's get started!

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or any of its characters and settings. They are the ideas of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

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Chapter 1: Prologue

 _ **American Horror Story: Asylum**_

 _ **Starring:**_

 _ **Zachary Quinto as- Dr Oliver Thredson**_

 _ **Sarah Paulson as- Lana Winters**_

 _ **Evan Peters as- Kit Walker**_

 _ **Lizzie Brochere as- Grace Bertrand**_

 _ **Chloe Sevingy as- Shelly**_

 _ **Lily Rabe as- Sister Mary Eunice**_

 _ **Naomi Campbell as- Pepper**_

 _ **Joseph Fiennes as- Monsignor Timothy Howard**_

 _ **James Cromwell as- Dr. Arthur Arden/Hans Gruber**_

 _ **and Jessica Lange as- Sister Jude**_

 _ **A Forest in Massachusetts, 2012**_

"C'mon, baby, just look sexy for me," one man called out to his wife, as he gripped a digital camera in his hands for pictures. Around the forest where they were walking however, there were remnants of discarded items trapped within the gnarled metal fence frozen in time.

"Stop fooling around, Leo!" the woman chastised the man as she stepped forward to the steps of the building ahead.

"You know I'm kidding!" Leo laughed. "You always look sexy. I'm so happy that I married you, Teresa." *click* *click*

Ahead of the two tourists was the abandoned site of Briarcliff Manor; a once proud institution regarded for hospitalizing and treating the criminally insane, now a relic scrawled with graffiti and splintered wood at its doorstep.

"What do you think is in there?" Leo asked.

"Maybe if you stop taking pictures and come inside, we'll find out," Teresa sighed bemusedly. "Unless you want me to leave your sorry ass."

"Admit it though," Leo smirked. "I'm the best guy you've ever had."

"Actually, there was one guy..." Teresa joked as Leo finished taking pictures and scooped his bride up in his arms.

"Well, this is it," Leo remarked. "The last stop on our haunted honeymoon tour." The two lovebirds then dashed inside the building, finding tarps and debris scattered all over the place.

"It says here that in 1908, Briarcliff Manor was founded as the largest tuberculosis study ward on the East Coast," Teresa read as she studied the details of the building's history from her iPhone. "Thousands of people died in this very place. They shuttled the bodies in an underground tunnel called the 'Death Chute'." With a devious smirk, Teresa turned towards Leo and suggested "We should totally do it in the Death Chute."

"Oh, you are so demented; that's what I love about you," Leo chuckled as the two continued on, walking past the abandoned cells of patients that made their home in the building. "We've got an hour before sunset, let's make this visit quick."

"What are we gonna tell our kids about the honeymoon anyway?" Teresa questioned.

"The truth, of course," Leo replied. "That we went to the most haunted places in America and fucked our brains out in every single one."

"Anyway," Teresa continued. "In 1962, the Catholic Church bought the building and turned it into a sanitarium for the criminally insane. Mass murderers, rapists, freakish riffraff... if you can think it, odds are they housed it at some point. Legend has it once you were commited, you never got out. Their most famous resident was a serial killer named-"

"Bloody Face!" Leo finished.

As Teresa explored around the womens' ward, she came across a shattered statue of the Virgin Mary. Smeared in now chalky lipstick residue, and lying in broken pieces of plaster, it was a sorry sight to behold. Her attention was then diverted as Leo called her over to a treatment room where she was strapped down for some sexual roleplay.

"I'm sick, doctor," Teresa whispered seductively. "Can you help me?"

"I'm afraid it's too late," Leo responded, playing along. "You seems to have a very bad case of morbid erotimania."

"Oh, goodness!" Teresa giggled.

"There's only one cure..." Leo stated as he undressed, ready to come.

"Then give it to me, Doc!" Teresa yelled, as she submitted to him, already preparing to orgasm. The foreplay was broken as a loud banging noise echoed through the halls. "What was that?" she asked.

"Dunno. Let's check it out," Leo suggested as the two set out to investigate, coming across a metal door with paint chipping off the exterior.

"Maybe it's Bloody Face..." Teresa wondered out loud, staggering across the asylum floor, grasping a flashlight in hand.

"-Or just old pipes." Leo pointed out, as he reached his arm through the miniscule mail slot, shining a light through the darkness on the other side. "I don't see any-" Leo began before he flinched as his arm was pulled through, causing Teresa to recoil in horror. However, it was merely a joke, as then yanked his arm back out, laughing at Teresa's dumbfounded expression. "I got you, didn't I?"

"Y-you prick!" Teresa responded in a mix of humor and exasperated anger.

"Speaking of, my lady, where were we?" Leo asked.

"No, I still want to know what's in there!" Teresa said, still curious about whatever the source was. "If you do it again, I'll make it up to you," she added, encouraging Leo's pervacious side to continue investigating. Pulling out an iPhone, he shone its light into the inky black space, finding nothing of interest- until a blurred figure dashed up and savagely yanked at his arm.

"The hell?" Leo remarked. "Okay, joke's over. You can let go now." The figure on the other side evidently didn't hear his plea, or if it did, it had no desire to fulfill his request. Instead, it violently ravaged at his arm, tearing its ligaments free from his body. "Get off me!" he yelled as the limb came loose and he collapsed from physical shock caused by blood loss. Before he blacked out, the last thing he heard was his wife's shrill scream of horror.

Terrified for her husband, she then ran away from the door and whatever had just assaulted her lover into the corridors she came from, the only sound she could hear besides her racing heartbeat was the pattering of her footsteps against the concrete floor. Her hopes for getting medical attention for her husband quickly fell short as she discovered a shadowy presence in the hallway. Shining a light at the figure, it was revealed to be none other than Bloody Face himself, drenched in the blood of slaughtered victims, garbed in a mask sewn together from human flesh. Terrified, the woman then fled back to the direction from where she came from moments prior, stopping back at her husband's recovering body.

" _ **Leo! Honey, don't die on me!**_ " she thought frantically to herself, relieved as her husband finally came to, coughing and sputtering on blood. "Honey, don't worry. I'm going to call an ambulance for you; you're going to be okay," she tried to assure him.

"Can you- can you promise me one thing?" Leo weakly asked.

"Yes, baby."

"Make sure that son of a bitch gets what's coming to him." Leo requested, only a minute before the Bloody Face killer finally caught up to them. Paralyzed with fear, Teresa quickly hid inside the empty room behind the door, not wanting to be caught by the sadistic killer, and peered through the mail slit as she watched Bloody Face pull out a knife and viciously stab Leo in the chest. *thnk!* *thnk!*

Screaming in a panic, Teresa ended up giving away her location as Bloody Face turned toward the door, and banged his fists against the cold surface. Curling into a ball, Teresa whimpered in terror as the monster slammed his fists against the door and then proceeded to jiggle the door handle. Regaining her composure, Teresa then grabbed a crowbar that rested closeby and opened the door with a mighty swing to the back of the killer's head.

"Die! Die, you sick bastard!" she screamed as she took the killer's knife and thrusted it through Bloody Face's chest. Eventually, the killer stirred weakly with a death gurgle rumbling from his throat, until he died asphyxiating on his own blood. Remembering her husband's plight, she then knelt down to guide Leo through the empty hallways and out back towards civilization as she pulled out her phone and swiftly dialed 911.

" _Hello, this is 9-1-1 services, what's your emergency?_ " the responder on the other end questioned, only to have their question unanswered as another Bloody Face stepped out from the shadows and shot Leo and Teresa dead in their tracks. " _I heard gunshots, where are you? Hello?_ " the responder asked in concern as the killer pulled off his mask, revealing himself as a copycat killer.

"Shut up, lady!" the young man answered as he shut off the line, and gestured to his associates to come out and observe their prey. "Did you guys see that?! They just fell like a sack of potatoes!"

"This isn't funny, Joey!" the other man pointed out angrily. "This shit went way too far this time."

"It went as far as it could go, Cooper." Joey responded. "Now don't you go and pussy out on me!"

"Wait, look." the third man in the group, named Devon, remarked as he pointed to Leo's bloodied stub. "Some guy took the poor bastard's arm off." The two associates then turned over to Joey, who stared back dumbfounded.

"Don't look at me, I didn't do that!" Joey replied in a flustered manner.

"Then who do you think did do it then?" Devon snapped, before the group's attention was diverted towards a newcomer: a fourth Bloody Face.

"Who are you, man?" Cooper questioned before the killer sprinted towards the group and quickly stabbed the young man in the jugular, his blood drizzling out from the puncture like a ruptured garden hose as he fell to the ground lifeless.

"Jesus Christ!" Devon gasped, as he fumbled for Cooper's gun in a futile attempt to incapacitate the killer. "What do you want from us? Who the fuck are you?!" Silently, the killer then proceeded to knock the gun out of the boy's hand and grab in a chokehold by the throat. After the young man, stopped moving Bloody Face turned towards the remaining person in the room.

"W-why would you do this?" Joey asked, crying in fear for his own life. The figure blinked at the young man before gruffly speaking.

"There's only one worthy of carrying the name Bloody Face, and I'm here to finish- what my father started." Then in a bout of anger, the killer took his knife and sliced clear through Joey's head, one word coming from his tortured mind as he finished the faker off. A name: the name of the one person who he despised above all others.

" _ **LANA!**_ "

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	2. Chapter 2

AHS Asylum

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or any of its characters and settings. They are the ideas of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

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Chapter 2: I'm Not Gonna Say It Was Aliens, But...

 _ **A Gas Station, 1964**_

Click! At a local gas station, the attendant was finishing up with loading a customer's car with fuel before turning over towards the driver for payment.

"That'll be about $4 even," the attendant, a blonde-haired young man named Kit Walker, told the customers.

"What? Do you just pump the gauge to rob people?" the driver asked.

"I just set the prices up, sir." Kit responded.

"Honey, stop teasing him, we've got to head back home," the driver's wife asked him. In response, after they paid Kit the family drove off as Kit was closing up for the night.

"Drive safely!" Kit called out as they sped away into the night. As he took inventory, he was singing with the music of the Commodores on the gas station radio. Everything seemed in order, and Kit was about to leave when he heard a knocking at the glass door.

"Sign says closed!" Kit called out before continuing his examinations before the music stopped and the lights dimmed. Confused, he went to investigate when he was startled by a group of his close friends that tried to scare him. "Are you trying to get killed? Do you know what I keep in those cabinets?!" he snapped.

"Something like this?" one of the men, a blonde haired young boy named Billy, said as he pulled out a loaded pistol jokingly before Kit snatched it out of his hands. "C'mon, just let us borrow it for a bit. The neighborhood punk's messing with my friend's sister."

"It's not going anywhere, so you better go," Kit said sternly.

Frowning in disappointment, Billy then remarked "How much is the boss paying you these days anyway? From what I hear, you've got yourself a maid at the house, am I right?". He walked forward with a judgmental glare as he bit into a chocolate bar from the concession stands.

Kit then kept unnaturally silent, as he ushered the group of hooligans out of the gas station before he drove back home. As he arrived back at the suburban home, he walked inside towards the kitchen with a smile, approaching his wife. A young woman of color, Alma Walker was working on the couple's supper as she noticed Kit walking over to her.

"Something sure smells good, Mrs. Walker." Kit remarked.

"I'm still not used to hearing those two words together, but I like it, Mr. Walker," she said with a giggle. After the two shared a smooch, they sighed to themselves before Alma continued to speak.

"So how was your day?" she asked.

"Ah, good." Kit answered as he checked the car key bowl near the door, finding Alma's wedding ring sitting inside of the space. "We should do it, you know? Tell everyone we know. It's not like we committed a crime; we drove to Province and got married. Our families should know."

"The world will change one day, Kit," Alma assured.

"Or maybe the world is wrong," Kit said back.

"Still, we need to keep it a secret," Alma somberly answered in response.

"It doesn't feel right though;" Kit added. "Makes me feel like I can't protect my own family."

In a renewal of passion, the two retreated to their bedroom for a moment of privacy from the rest of the world before relaxing back on the bed in bemusement.

"I hope you like your rice and beef tough, because that's what we're having tonight." Alma said to Kit as she stood back up and put on her robes to check their supper, as Kit sat back, taking a smoke, only to notice the feed on their radio signal stuttered and crackled out. With a thwack, the signal soon returned, and Kit leaned back in rest, thinking nothing more of it, only to see a bright flash of light outside their window and the rumbling of some sort of vehicle.

"Shit!" Kit cursed out loud as he sprung up and fetched his shotgun. "Alma, no matter what happens, stay down and hidden. Do you hear me?" he called out as he cracked open the back door and sneak outside the house slowly. "Joke's over, Billy. Where are you?" His search was rendered moot as he found nobody else outside at that time of night, only for the light to shine back down overhead of him, blinding him as he heard Alma's cries of terror from inside the house.

"Kit! Help me!"

"Alma!" Kit reacted as he groggily dashed back into the house, calling out for Alma as the noise of the presence above them rumbled louder as Kit collapsed to the floor, covering his ears and wincing in agony. The feeling intensified until the lights and noise faded, and things appeared to return to normal. Kit raised his head as he looked around, seeing kitchenware overturned in the chaos moments prior. The peace didn't last long as the intense sensation flung Kit against the ceiling, propelling him into some higher state of being as his sight flickered to take in lanky grey beings experimenting on him as he howled in terror and pain, all the while hearing Alma's cries for help ringing in his mind.

In reality, however, Kit was not faring as well. In the haste of the horror occurring at the Walker residence, a neighbor dialed the authorities, believing a murder was taking place. Following a torturous session of his visions, Kit was finally released... and arrested by the arriving police force.

"Kit Walker, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of Alma and countless other women per your identity as 'Bloody Face'." the head policeman told the writhing and struggling young man, who only screamed and cursed at the officers who were currently restraining him.

"No, Alma's in danger! Someone has to help her! You have to believe me!" Kit shouted.

"That's what they all say," the officer chuckled darkly before continuing. "You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney- if you cannot afford an attorney, one will provided to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

Kit could only scream in anger in response before the officer gestured to a co-worker to knock Kit unconscious to prevent the man from further resisting arrest. Kit Walker's troubles had only just begun.

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	3. Chapter 3

AHS Asylum

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or any of its characters and settings. They are the ideas of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

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Chapter 3: Enter the Asylum

 _ **Briarcliff Asylum, One Day Later**_

A beige colored car slowly circled the corner as it came up in front of the gate to Briarcliff. Rolling the window of the care down, the driver turned towards the officer and the gate to introduce herself.

"Hello, I'm Lana Winters, from the Gazette and I'm here to do an interview with Sister Jude about your bakery." the woman explained as she was admitted past the gate to enter the asylum. In the distance, a rather misshapen young woman, a 'pinhead', darted off towards the new visitor. Lana exited the vehicle and was searching around for the entrance, when the pinhead sprung up behind her, and startled her.

"Play with me!" the girl exclaimed, handing Lana a rose before playfully dancing around. Lana innocuously stood aside and held the rose in her grasp, only to prick her finger on a thorn, which made her flinch momentarily.

"Pepper," a nearby woman clad in a black robe and nunnery scolded the girl as she walked over towards Lana. "Leave the lady alone!"

"It's fine," Lana assured. "She just wanted to make a friend. There was no harm in it."

"I assure you Pepper is far from harmless," the nun told Lana. "It's said that she drowned her sister's baby and bit its ears off. Came from a freak show, so I've heard."

"I take it you are Sister Mary Eunice?" Lana asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Why, yes I am. Someone's done their homework. Now, if you'd please follow me." the nun told Lana as they entered inside the building. Immediately, Lana's auditory senses were assaulted by the hysterical laughter and terrified screams of asylum inmates, some of which were sprawled around a spiral staircase.

"Are you impressed? We affectionately dub this our 'Stairway to Heaven'." Mary Eunice told the stunned reporter as they continued on their way to the head nun's office, as the nun in question, a gaunt woman with pale blonde hair, was attending to a girl with half her hair shaved off.

"Dust yourself off, Shelley. I'll deal with you in length later." the woman told the girl as she stood up, before she shot a icy glare at Mary Eunice, who seized up in mortification, which betrayed her previously stern demeanor. "And I told you to knock before you enter, my dear Sister."

"You think I'm full of regret for what you did to me? Well, think again!" Shelley retorted. "You could shave me as bald as a cue ball and I'd still be this joint's hottest tamale!"

"Take her out into the halls, so the others can witness her newfound immaculacy," Jude instructed Mary Eunice as she turned towards Lana Winters, ready to start the tour.

"Oh, and..." Mary Eunice added as she leaned in and whispered something to Sister Jude before leaving with Shelley strong-armed alongside her.

"She's talking about the killer, isn't she? Bloody Face." Lana deduced.

"Bloody Face?" Jude asked back in confusion.

"He's been going around murdering and decapitating women; three of them so far. They say he'll be admitted into the asylum today." Lana explained.

"Typical reporter," Jude said out loud in disappointment. "You don't even have the slightest interest in the story of our business. Oh, how our Monsignor- Timothy Howard- planned for carrying this place forward. It was all part of his philosophy."

"Philosophy? Do tell," Lana suggested.

"It's his belief that the tonic for a diseased mind lies in productivity, prayer, and purification." Sister Jude continued. "Not that I would expect someone named after a trainwreck of a soul to understand."

"Please, if you just give me only three minutes to talk with him, I swear that I will write an-"

"You swear? You don't even have a single pious bone in your entire body, Miss Lana Banana. But if you want a story, then take this back: the courts have assigned him here until it is decided whether he is mentally fit to stand on trial. Until then, he has all the time to repent to the only judge that matters: the Almighty God."

Outside the building, just as Jude was talking with Lana, the police car pulled forward with Kit Walker in tow, as he was led inside the building and hosed down after being handcuffed and escorted into the common room where all the other inmates resided, listening to an endless loop of the French hymnal Dominique.

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Thanks for tuning in and seeing the story pick up its steam. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I've been preoccupied with life, and trying to make sense of the new season, Roanoke. Anyway, please remember to keep following the story and review to see more.


	4. Chapter 4

AHS Asylum

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or any of its characters and settings. They are the ideas of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

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Chapter 4: Dominique

 _ **Briarcliff Asylum, Later that Day**_

After Kit was given a rude welcome as part of Sister Jude's method of breaking in new charges, he was escorted to the lounge room, where other patients of the asylum spent their downtime. However, Sister Jude's words kept echoing through his head as he was goaded onward.

" _Your story, about little green men? That will get you nowhere in here. After all, all monsters are human; even you._ _"_

"Oh! Sister Jude is really on the warpath lately, isn't she?" a voice exclaimed, snapping Kit out of his stupor. It was the supposed nymphomaniac, Shelley.

"W-what are you doing?" Kit asked as Shelley observed the wounds he received from a cane whipping by Sister Jude, as a middle-aged Hispanic woman silently danced to the blaring tune of Dominique that seemingly played on an endless loop in the room close by.

"Those are pretty deep cuts, handsome. You ought to come down to the Hydrotherapy room with me some time."

"All I need is a salve, that's all," Kit remarked, trying to play things cool, as he walked away, facing several growing noises all around him. At one end, there was a man masturbating with great ferocity while cackling out loud to himself, and in another corner, a distraught woman thumped her head against the wall for no discernible reason while a strange fellow loudly clanged the pieces of a checkerboard while speaking in complete gibberish. But the breaking point of it all was the endless song playing amidst the chaos.

" _I can't take it! This music has to stop!_ " Kit despaired as he approached the record player, ready to pull away the scratch needle, when somebody stopped him from taking his hand over.

"Don't touch it," a woman's voice warned Kit. "Anyone of these people would be happy to sell you out, and all you'd get is another ten cane whelks on your ass. There's a rule for everything around here; I found that out the hard way long ago."

"Why should I trust you?" Kit asked the stranger, a brunette-haired woman in a hospital gown of sorts.

"Because despite what _they_ say, I'm not crazy." she retorted.

"Hey, you're Bloody Face, right?!" a tall man called out towards Kit, as he shed his jacket and brought his fists up. "You must be the most dangerous guy in this room. I guess you didn't like her color enough to kill a colored girl, huh?" The man's words were enough to set off Kit's temper as he lunged at the man, slamming his fist into the other man's jaw.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ALMA, YOU FUCKER! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Kit roared as he walloped away at the man before he overpowered Kit and threw in some payback punches.

"Get off of him!" the girl cried out, trying to separate the two brawlers, only to be pushed aside and knock the scratch needle off of the record, filling the room with the chants of bemused patients calling for the two to fight. The scene quite nearly escalated into a bloody zenith until Sister Jude entered the room, and blew upon her silencing whistle to bring the asylum inmates under control once more. Wordlessly, she walked amongst the path towards the record player and set the needle back in place, as the song continued to fill the room. Turning towards the orderlies, she nodded in gesture to restrain Kit and throw him back in solitary.

"No... no!" Kit cried out before a painful source hit him upside the head, and his vision failed him as he blacked out.

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Hours passed, and Kit sat in solitary, contemplating his new fate. Never again would he be able to live amongst others as a free man; never again would he share in love and feel the sensation of passion between him and his beloved Alma... this was his life now. His inner lament was then cut short as the slit to his cell door slid open, and the woman from before passed him a meal from through the opening.

"You've still got to eat," she said.

"Why though? Why are you being so nice to me?" Kit asked her.

"What you put out into the world has a habit of coming back in," she remarked.

"What did you do to get you locked up in here?" Kit continued.

"They say I butchered my family, but I know better. Speaking of, you didn't really kill her, did you?" the girl questioned.

"Of course not; and I'm not crazy either." Kit replied defensively.

"Well, that's unfortunate. If they think you're sane, you end up in a place a lot worse than this. If you think not having a chair is bad, think of the one they'd strap you into."

The conversation was cut short as the creaking of an iron door echoed through the hallway.

"I'll try to come back later," the woman said as she set back out to her cell so nobody else would know where she was.

"Hey. I didn't get your name," Kit said.

"It's Grace," the girl said, as she walked away, leaving Kit with a faint yet renewed sense of hope.

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	5. Chapter 5

AHS Asylum

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or any of its characters and settings. They are the ideas of Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuk.

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Chapter 5: Confronting Arden and the Monsignor

 ** _The Following Morning..._**

As Sister Jude entered the break room to check on how Mary Eunice was faring, she was taken aback to see the young nun softly sobbing while cleaning the checkerboard.

"H-he's gone, Willie's gone!" Sister Eunice cried as she recalled the unfortunate news she was given earlier that day. "Dr. Arden said to take his body over to his office for treatment."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Sister Jude angrily demanded, ready to go over to the doctor's lab to give the recent employee a piece of her mind. When she entered the laboratory space where the 'good doctor' attended to his work, a stauchy balding man in his 60s looked up and addressed Jude.

"Ah, Sister Jude, it's always a pleasure to see you-" he began before Jude interrupted him in an unamused way.

"You can dispense with the pleasantries, Doctor. I want to do a sweep of your lab!" she remarked.

"When the Monsignor brought me out of retirement, we made a gentleman's agreement."

"Curious, since only one of you can be called a gentleman," she snapped back. "All I want to know is what happened to the patients that were admitted in your care, including Willy."

"They died," he replied, not even looking up from his work.

"That's it? No explanation?"

"Patients in this facility suffer diseases of not only the mind, but the body as well. On another note, do you know what _this_ is?" Arden asked, presenting the nun with a potted plant.

"It's a little Elena plant."

"There's much more to it than that," he began as he told of the fascinating history of the 'plant'. "This particular strain of Alstromeria was created by bombarding it with gamma rays. Therefore, it is an affirmation of the power science has over nature. With further research, who knows what could be done? It is my firm belief that perhaps we could even play God ourselves..."

"Blasphemy!" Jude interrupted, before she demanded where the bodies were.

"Cremated, my dear. As you would say, 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust'." Arden smirked, knowing full well the truth behind their disappearance.

"I find it quite curious that of all the patients you've treated, not one of them has a family left behind. I'm certain you're lying, and whatever you're hiding will see the light of day." Jude told him as she left to continue her work. "You'll soon find I always win against the patriarchal male."

"Bully for you," he seethed as the door clicked shut behind her.

* * *

Later that evening, Sister Jude prepared a special dinner for her and the Monsignor, and then proceeded to pray in blessing.

"Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee... pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of death. Amen." Soon enough, the good Sister was dressed in a lacy underslip underneath her habit as the two began their meal.

"My dear Sister, you are indeed a rara avis." the Monsignor remarked. "A rare bird, as they say in Latin."

"Is that a compliment or criticism? After all, when you put me in charge, I thought my position was to reprimand the absence of God and the madness that comes from it." Sister Jude accused.

"No need to be so defensive. Most women of faith feel they must deny themselves of all sensory life when they take vows to God."

"As usual, you see through me. I wish to know where you found Dr. Arden. He is not a man of God." Jude told the Monsignor.

"The church approved him. And you shouldn't be so fearful, for it was God who created Heaven and science. In another light, fantastic opportunities await us." the Monsignor continued. "America is nearly on the moon; our dear departed Kennedy, a Catholic, was President. And one day, together, our facility will reach such prestige that we are called upon to be the Cardinal of New York."

"We?" Sister Jude questioned, as thoughts crossed her mind of a sexual fantasy with the Monsignor, the only man she felt any kind of sensual attachment to.

"You are my right hand, dear Sister. I see you overseeing thousands of Nuns across the world as Mother Superior, and with you and God by my side, we could even become the leaders of the Vatican itself. You'd enjoy Rome, wouldn't you? But for that to work, the doctor needs his domain to be respected, as I respect yours."

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